Certain it is that there was never for me such a blue lake between such fresh hills, and yet I did not see them. The face of the Master, his beaming eyes, where blended the most beautiful shades of sapphire—that was what I saw, and I said to Madam Cosima, who thought quite as I did,—
"Now, at last, I comprehend that happiness of paradise, so extolled by believers, the seeing of the Gods face to face!"
The setting sun illumined a beatified sky when the boat stopped at the last station. The lake appeared to end there, and I believe the little port where we disembarked was called Treib, and from there one ascended to Seelisberg.
I was altogether unacquainted with the previous life of Richard Wagner; I knew nothing of his political exile or of his long sojourn in this country where he was leading us: I had no idea of the ordeals he had passed through, of the heart-breaks which had preceded the consoling lull of the present hour, this happy time of renewed inspiration, during which I had the good fortune to find him so full of joy, of energy, and of serenity.
I was, therefore, very much surprised, delightfully surprised, by the scene which followed his landing. Before he put his foot on shore he had been recognised. Very soon a crowd assembled: boatmen, residents, attendants, all hurried toward him, and with wonderful enthusiasm acclaimed Richard Wagner, pressing his hands, kissing his garments with a sort of adoration. The Master thanked them laughing, but with wet eyes. He drew us quickly away from the crowd.
"These good people," said he, "they have not forgotten me yet."
Then he told us how much this land of exile had meant to him.
"I arrived here like a criminal driven out of his country, knowing not where to find refuge. This is the very village to which I came. And that first night when, sad and disheartened, I made ready to sleep in a strange room, a chorus of men, accompanied by harps and brass instruments broke forth under my window. Dressing again quickly, I opened the shutters, and saw on the lake several boats hung with lanterns, and filled with men who sang. Can you imagine my emotion in listening to them? For they sang my music, fragments from my operas! I could hardly believe my ears. How could it happen that while I was fleeing from one country which hated me, here, in this out-of-the-way village, I was loved; they knew my works, and welcomed me like this? I have lived a long time among these honest Swiss people, and I am deeply grateful to them, because at the moment of my greatest despair they gave me back faith and hope." Wagner spoke with feeling, and his voice was serious; but his laugh rang clearly as he added:
"And that is why you will have bad beds tonight, and an indifferent supper. For I know you would not have me take you to any other inn than this one from which I carried away such a memory."